


To The Point Of No Return

by slbunnies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bloodplay, Explicit Language, M/M, Masochism, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Hogwarts, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-07-18 03:33:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7297807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slbunnies/pseuds/slbunnies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captured and tortured by his enemies, Harry Potter is broken beyond what anyone thinks can be fixed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Wallow in the angst. I know I will as I write this. I'm not sure where this came from, we'll see how it progresses. I have ideas, sadistic ones, but ideas nonetheless.

He clenched his eyes shut even more tightly, gulping in his breaths quickly just to feel it expand inside his chest, just to know that he was still alive, that he hadn't yet given in. His arms ached something fierce – the muscles straining, his wrists torn and likely bleeding, and feeling like they were practically dislocated from their sockets. Harry turned his head into the sweat coated skin of his right bicep, pulled taut above his head just as his other arm was. 

He bit down on the limb, trying to get some sort of feeling back into it besides the dull burning of overuse. Wiggling his fingers slightly, Harry groaned at the tingling pain shooting through his arms. Just hanging there from the ceiling was torture all on it's own. His toes barely brushed along the cold, grime-covered floor, and had they not he was sure he would've lost all feeling in his torso by now. 

Harry had no idea for how long he'd been hanging there, chained to the ceiling, the manacles locked uncomfortably tight around his wrists and slicing into his flesh. Poking his tongue out from between his lips, he tried to moisten them. All he managed to do was spread the blood seeping from the cut near the corner of his top one, causing a stinging pain when his tongue swept over it. 

Ignoring it, because it was the least of it all, Harry pulled the tangy, metallic taste back into his mouth, rubbing his tongue over his dry palate. Fuck, what he would've given for a drink of water, of anything resembling liquid; it felt like he hadn't had anything in days. 

The loud slam reverberating into the room from the only entrance into Harry's current hell-hole had him yanking frantically at the cold, linked metal holding him in place, his eyes wide as he tried to pick out a shape in the absolute darkness. Nothing. 

His throat made an odd clicking sound as he tried to speak instead of actually producing the words he wanted to shout. It seemed as if he'd lost his voice. Harry supposed he'd been screaming too much. 

Swallowing, just to make sure his throat was still in working order, he tried again, a scratching rasp resembling not much more than a gasp was all that he could manage. He felt tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. Shouting had helped, had given him some sort of release, had given him some kind of control over himself. They hadn't stopped him from screaming.

They liked it when he screamed.

Feeling the rough touch of a hand against his chest, Harry jerked back as much as he could, feeling himself start to swing from the momentum of his movement. His toes scrabbled to gain purchase again, feeling his arms straining, pulling tight, a sharp stabbing in his shoulders blades. Two calm hands reached out to steady him. 

If Harry could've spoken he would have been begging them not to touch him. He hadn't done so at first – hadn't wanted to give them the pleasure of hearing him fall apart under their ministrations, but he'd given into that long ago. It hadn't done him any good to stay silent. Not that begging had done him any good either.

The hand brushed down to his stomach, dipping into the hollows of his protruding ribs, tracing the lines of the latest bloody adornments upon his skin. Harry couldn't stop from wincing. It didn't help that the touch was soft, barely there, almost reassuring. It wasn't though. That was their latest way to have fun with him.

Whoever held him captive had apparently become tired of simply causing him pain and had changed their tactics. It had succeeded and Harry felt broken, dirty, used, from the new form of torture. 

“What did they do to you?” A soft voice asked, barely there, making Harry's skin prickle. He took a deep breath and turned his face back into his arm. He wasn't going to give in to their deception. They couldn't fool him any more, he knew there was no hope left for him. They could play their games all they wanted but he knew it all just led to pain. The only thing he could look forward to was that everything done was only pain inducing in the end. 

All paths led to pain.


	2. Damsel In Distress

He knew he should have been doing something but Draco found himself completely immobile. Staring up into Potter's turned away face, he wanted only to wrap himself around the man, gather him into his arms and hold him tightly.

After what seemed like forever, when it was in actuality only mere minutes, Draco pulled his hand away from Potter's torso and moved into action. He wrapped his arm around his suspended body and flicked his wand to the restraints holding him. They disintegrated and Potter fell into him, not even attempting to keep himself upright, a dead weight in Draco's arms.

Potter smelt of sweat and a multitude of other things that he didn't even want to consider and he shuddered at the fact that he was becoming covered in the unknown substances. Ignoring the man's naked form, Draco pulled him up straighter, half dragging him from the room. He would have just levitated him, but he didn't want to overuse his magic when he wasn't sure what he'd still need it for and doing so would've also left him momentarily vulnerable.

He could see that Potter was still conscious but he seemed to be only a shell of a being, not even realizing that Draco was rescuing him.

“Oh, thank you, Draco, ever so much for saving me!” he mimicked in a high, completely ridiculous fabrication of what a damsel might've sounded like in the current situation. “What a terribly attractive, smart, courageous man you must be! How ever could I repay you?” Draco continued, amusing himself as they moved through the hallway, noticing that Potter was absent-mindedly moving his feet now.

“Hey, Potter?” he asked firmly, waving his hand in front of the man's face and watching his dull, green eyes snap into focus suddenly and then waver as if looking at a far away place. “Well fuck,” Draco swore, hiking Potter up again as he started to slip from his shoulder. It was undeniable that Potter would be of no use to him.

There were stairs, great...he'd forgotten about them. Draco leaned Potter up against the wall and wiped at his own sweaty forehead, feeling bone-tired and like he could sleep for a week straight. It didn't help that he'd been up for over thirty hours doing surveillance before this. He would have to levitate Potter up the stairs. It was better than risking the possibility of both of them collapsing down them if he couldn't manage it or missed a step by accident.

Pointing his wand at Potter, he bound him first, to keep his limbs from dangling, and then levitated him up, following only a step back and hoping to hell that he hadn't missed anyone in the building, because he had made himself rather vulnerable at the moment with his wand focused on moving Potter.

Potter groaned, his eyes rolling into the back of his head just as they reached the top, fainted, and went slack. It was lucky that Draco wasn't lugging him any more, though that meant he would have to keep levitating him. Draco sighed and moved quicker, gingerly stepping over the dead body blocking his way before striding to the end of the hall.

His heart raced wildly until they were clear of the building and hidden by the trees lining the property. He set Potter down on the frost covered grass, wishing he had brought something to cover him with as he began the complicated enchantments necessary to allow access to enter his wards. Draco rushed as fast as he could, not wanting Potter to die of the cold after having just saved him.

“Alright, Potter, time to go, you've been here long enough,” he muttered to himself, picking Potter up and figuring the easiest way to carry him would be in both arms. He only needed his wrist to flick his wand for apparation any how.

Draco nearly fell over when they arrived at the safe house but he righted himself, leaning against the wall so he wouldn't drop Potter. The man had enough injuries. Biting his lip, Draco looked down at the man's form, cradled against his chest, and looking like a completely different person.

Holding back his emotions at the sight of him, now that there was enough light for him to see everything more clearly, he finally beheld the extent of it all and he swallowed at the bile rising in his throat. No one deserved that. Well, maybe the sick fucks that had tortured Potter, but Draco took some joy in the fact that he had killed them himself, only regretting that he hadn't caused them more pain while doing so.

Shuffling forward, Draco made his way to the only bedroom in the house and lay Potter down across the bed. He pulled the blanket down and off, trying his best not to cause the man any more pain in the process. He probably should have removed the blanket before hand but he hadn't thought of it ahead of time.

“You look like shit, Potter,” he said quietly into the room. Draco sighed and gathered some towels, going into the bathroom to find the first aid. He came back with the fluffy fabric sopping wet and a bundle of things in his other arm. Setting the potions, ointments, and salves down at the foot of the bed, Draco sat on the edge, right beside Potter's supine form, grimacing. It might take a while.

He started at the top, working methodically to wash him clean and carefully applying healing salves into the worst wounds first, manoeuvring his body as needed to reach all the places that needed care. There were many that were still bleeding freely and those required multiple layers of dittany. Draco tried to use that on only the larger, more life threatening ones as he only had a limited supply of the plants essence. He removed his spell that was keeping the man from movement. Potter didn't move anyway.

Draco wished he had brought more supplies as he could have brewed up something better to help relieve the man's pain than what the Ministry had supplied. As it was, Draco uncorked three of the bottles, tipping Potter's head back and using his fingers to open his mouth. He poured them down slowly, one by one, massaging Potter's throat to help him swallow, and even then the man kept sputtering and choking on it.

When he had done as much as he could, he drew a light sheet up Potter's body, knowing anything more would just irritate and aggravate his injuries.

“Well, Potter, it looks like we're having a sleep over. I'll be in the chair,” he once again told the prone man, speaking as if Potter was aware at all that he was being spoken to. Draco cleaned himself up quickly, feeling absolutely drained, and squashed himself into the large chair in the corner of the room so that he could keep on eye on Potter through the night and still be close by if he needed to be. He hoped that Potter didn't snore in his sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a review, it let's me know if I should continue.


	3. Still Lost

Jolting up from the bed, Harry shuffled himself to the top of it, bending his legs and pulling them close to his body. He had no idea where he was, though he was sure it was just an in between place before he was subjected to the usual pain. Harry blinked into the dark room, his eyes roving over the sparse pieces of furniture and finally resting on the figure nestled into a chair in the corner.

He jerked his head away and covered it with his arms, whimpering, sure that he was about to be tortured at any moment now that he was once again conscious. Body shaking, he felt a twinge in his side and looked down to see something wrapped around his torso, covering his ribs, hiding the wound he knew should be there from his sight. Harry poked at it, gasping at the sharp pain doing so invoked. 

“Potter?” 

Harry's head snapped back up to look at the man calling out his name. He was a shadow. 

“N--” he rasped out, still unable to speak, feeling like his throat was raw. 

The shadow came closer and Harry pressed himself into the headboard, trying to keep his distance without actually getting off the bed. If he hadn't been in so much pain Harry would have been off the bed and trying to get out the room, but as it was he had no energy to do so. Harry didn't like beds. Nothing good ever happened in beds. In fact, the worst of it happened in beds. He whimpered again.

“Hey, Potter,” the voice said softly, coming closer, but seeming to do so at a pace that wouldn't make Harry bolt. He felt the bed dip down beside him and he tried to pull his legs in even closer. There was a deep breath, then, “Harry... I'm... I'm not going to hurt you. I promise.” 

Harry began to cry, not even trying to hold back the loud sobs. He didn't believe the man. He flinched when a hand came out to touch his arm but when nothing else happened and it didn't move further, he simply held himself, letting the cries peter out until he couldn't cry any more. 

Lifting his head, he wiped his wet face against his folded arms, finding the man's face only a foot away from his own. It looked familiar. He clenched his jaw. 

“Potter, you need to rest. I'll be right back, I'm just grabbing some sleeping potion.”

He watched the man get up and leave the room, leaving the door open, a sliver of light hitting the wall, which Harry couldn't take his eyes off of. This was his chance to escape. His captor had given him a way out. 

Pushing himself forward, Harry slid off the side of the bed, standing shakily on both legs but almost falling over. It took a moment to make sure he could stay upright and he shuffled forward toward the door. Freedom. Only a few steps away.

“Potter, this should h--” Harry lunged forward, his hands clasped together as he swung his arms up into the air to bring his fists down against the man's head. The man side stepped the blow – Harry fell forward, losing his precarious balance. Arms reached out to catch him, just in time before his face would've smashed into the wall.

“What the fuck, Potter?” an annoyed voice said. Harry was practically dragged back to the bed and he struggled the entire way, shoving the body away from him, trying to punch the man wherever he could, even going so far as to bite him. “Dammit... that fucking hurts, you prick.”

He was pushed onto the bed and his arms pinned above his head. Harry snarled, gnashing his teeth, bucking his whole body upward to try and get free. 

“Stay still,” he was told, not that he would listen, “I don't want to have to tie you down, Potter. You're hurting yourself.” Harry flexed his legs, pushing his lower body up off the bed, wondering where his sudden strength had come from. Maybe it was adrenaline from almost getting free. He knew he was going to pay for his insolence, but he'd had to try. It was worth it just to try.

“Shit, you're bleeding again,” Harry heard, along with a sigh, followed by an incantation that strapped his wrists together and held them to the headboard. He twisted and turned his body to test the bonds and found he was held tight. Harry sunk into the bed, breathing hard, feeling the blood soaking out of the bandages around his side.

The cloth was peeled away from his side and his breath caught as air hit his skin, sucking in his stomach, and hoping he would pass out before the torture got too bad. Harry trembled, keeping absolutely still as he felt cool fingers spreading something across his wound. It only hurt a little but Harry felt himself start to become erect. He bit his bottom lip, hard, adding to the pain, jerking his hips up from it.

“Oh, jeez, Potter... stop doing that, you're making yourself bleed.”

Harry brought his tongue out to taste the blood beading out from his lip, staring dazedly up into grey eyes. The blonde, almost not visible eyebrows above them were pinched together in worry. Harry was confused. 

His side was wrapped in a new bandage, at first much too tight, but then it was lessened when he let out a gasp at the painful sensation. 

“Sorry,” a soothing voice said, making sure the bandage was on properly. Harry yanked on the bonds joining his wrists again, feeling them cut into his skin the harder he pulled. “Potter, stop it. You're...” The voice trailed off, probably just noticing how hard Harry was. 

He heard a gulp then felt the slide of sheets over his legs and up further to cover his pelvis. Sighing, Harry arched up, still twisting his torso to try and get free, but now also trying to find some friction.

“Oh, Harry...” he felt a hand across his cheek, cupping it gently. Looking into the man's face twisted into a grimace, Harry stilled at the sight of a potion's bottle coming toward his mouth. He didn't want to drink that. His mouth was forced open and he choked on the liquid, trying to push it out of his mouth with his tongue. 

Eventually he couldn't help but drink it, feeling his nose pinched so he couldn't breathe any more unless he swallowed. Harry almost decided he'd rather die but found out breathing happened to be a reflex and he took the potion, feeling his eyes droop closed shorty afterward.

“There, get some sleep, Potter,” he heard as he drifted off, his head muggy, his arms still stretched above him. He was used to the feeling.


	4. You're Safe Now

Sitting down at the foot of the bed, Draco stared at Potter's sleeping face. He felt wrung out, exhausted from having to deal with this unfathomable situation, and he probably required more sleep, but first he needed some form of sustenance. He hadn't had anything to eat since... his stomach growled, reminding him it had likely been days since he'd fed himself, tending to forget when he was in the zone and away for an extended period of time.

Draco left Potter in the room, figuring he had a few hours at least before he awoke again, and made his way to the little kitchen he had at his disposal. As he prepared something to eat, quick and light, consisting of soup and sandwiches, which could be easily warmed up again for Potter's consumption, he contemplated how he was going to deal with the volatile man.

Potter had clearly lost his mind – not that Draco blamed him. He could only guess, based on the injuries he'd seen, how extensive the torture Potter had endured had really been. Six months – that's how long 'the boy who lived' had been missing. And the cruelties inflicted upon not only his body but also his mind made Draco feel sick to his stomach.

He methodically cleaned up the mess he had made in his haste to procure something edible and also set a stasis charm over the remaining food, silent in his thoughts about what he could do to inform the proper authorities that he had found Potter. Draco was in the middle of a reconnaissance mission and he wasn't supposed to contact anyone for another two weeks, but it was possible to get a missive out from beyond his wards if there happened to be an emergency. Trouble was that they extended quite a distance from the small house so he would have to leave Potter alone to do so. He might just have to knock him out again, depending on Potter's reaction when he regained consciousness again.

Sighing, slightly annoyed with the predicament he found himself in, Draco went back to the bedroom where his passed out 'guest' was still layed out on the bed. At least he had a substantial supply of potion's, though he wished there was more dittany – he would have to use it sparingly.

Aside from making sure that Potter was still alive and breathing, he ignored the man and pulled open the bottom drawer of the single night stand to gather some parchment along with a quill and some ink. Draco pondered over what to write. He wasn't even sure who it was best to inform about his current situation. It was probably simplest to just let his supervisor know and then she could decide from there who else would gain the knowledge of Potter's current whereabouts.

He quickly wrote up a letter, detailing how he had found Potter and the direct actions he had taken to securely retrieve him from imprisonment, hoping to hell he wouldn't be punished too severely for stepping over – who was he kidding, he'd barrelled straight through them – his mission protocols. It wasn't as if he could continue his mission now. But, it was the 'saviour of the wizarding world' so Draco was fairly sure they would be lenient in this case. It helped that his supervisor was one of the green-eyed man's best friends.

Draco had been sent out to keep watch on a group of dark wizards and had followed them to that horror house. Well, he'd pursued three of them and had incidentally lost the other two in the process. And he'd bolloxed everything up by killing them. The others were liable to flee once they saw the massacre Draco had left in his wake.

It had been imperative to his mission to keep them all alive, a direct order he had purposefully ignored once he'd realized who exactly they had been keeping under lock and key in their cellar. What a mess it had all turned into, but Draco hadn't been capable of just leaving Potter there. It was the first mission Draco had ever failed and he felt he should probably be a bit more upset about it, but he wasn't. Not when something so great had come out of it. He would likely receive a medal for bringing Potter back... mostly in one piece. Plus, it was Potter. Even if he _had_ annoyed Draco for most of his life, he didn't deserve to be tortured.

Tucking everything back into the drawer for the time being, Draco turned back to Potter sprawled across the bed with only a sheet to cover his modesty. He would have to transfigure the man some clothes or lend him a few things, like socks and underwear, as he was sure his other clothes wouldn't fit Potter's smaller frame. Although, shrinking them was also an option and probably easier.

Potter moaned in his sleep, his eyes rolling madly behind his eyelids as he began to toss around, flopping his limbs around dangerously like he was trying to swat at something. Draco clenched his jaw, flicking his wand out to restrain him and restrict his movements with a partial body binding spell. He was tired of Potter injuring himself. He checked over his wounds and bandages, finding them to be in the same order as before.

“What am I going to do with you, Potter?” he asked, frowning to himself at the silence his question was met with. Draco really had no idea. Potter seemed to think of him as his enemy and if that was the case then he would be limited by that. He would have to gain the brunette's trust.

Snorting, Draco went back to the chair in the corner, propping his head up on his hand as he watched Potter. He felt a bit like a creep, watching Potter as he slept, but the circumstances dictated he do so. He just couldn't leave the man to his own devices.

He rested there for about an hour before Potter started showing signs of wakefulness again, his fingers clenching by his sides as he struggled to thrash around, his eyes shifting around behind his eyes for a while before they suddenly popped open wide, staring blankly at the ceiling. Sighing and dropping his legs back down to the floor, Draco stood and flicked his wand at Potter to release the binding. The man's arms and legs automatically curled in on his body protectively as he began to whimper.

“Harry,” Draco said in a gentle manner, “You're safe now. No one will hurt you.” Making sure he was standing between Potter and the doorway, he crept closer to the bed, his eyes pinned to the dark green orbs staring intensely at him. “It's me, Malfoy... Draco.”

He saw Potter's brow line furrow in confusion as he tried to comprehend what he was being told. Draco hoped he understood, at least on some level, that he wasn't in danger any more.

“M-m-oy?” Potter asked, voice strained, body slowly uncurling itself so he could raise his head from the bed. He hissed, clutching his side, right over the bandage, and Draco took another step forward while he was distracted.

“Yes, Malfoy – you remember me, right?” He felt like he was stepping on eggshells, but he had no other option, really, unless he just wanted to keep Potter tied to his bed for who knew how long. Draco blushed, his mind wandering to places it really shouldn't have been going, especially when he should have been concentrating on Potter right then.

“W-w-wa-”

“Water?” Draco cut him off, knowing Potter's throat must have still been feeling too raw to talk yet. Potter tilted his head down minutely. Draco summoned a glass and with a quick _'aguamenti'_ , was holding one out for him, not wanting to leave the room while Potter was awake and chance another opportunity for the sod to injure himself again. He waited patiently as Potter gave him a cursory glance before he snatched the water from his hand and downed it, coughing as he tried to drink it all in one go.

“Hey, take it easy. There's more where that came from,” he commented with a small smile, glad that he wouldn't have to force Potter to stay hydrated.

“H-h-rt,” Potter rasped out, his hands going to his throat, prodding the likely tender skin.

“I know, Potter, but you can't have any more potion for that for a few more hours yet,” Draco responded, still trying to keep his voice gentle and soothing, though it was hard for him to do so. It just wasn't in his nature.

It hurt his chest to watch Potter clench his eyes shut, his eyelashes sticking together wetly as he started to cry. Draco didn't really know what to do. He wasn't good at consoling people – Potter didn't like being touched anyway, that much was obvious. So he stood there awkwardly, watching the man who used to be his nemesis shake and sob like a small child, feeling like he was utterly useless.

 


End file.
